


I Wish You Would See Me the Way I See You

by thekeyholder



Category: Muse
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Introspection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-06
Updated: 2013-08-18
Packaged: 2017-12-22 15:42:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/915000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekeyholder/pseuds/thekeyholder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story shows two types of attraction. Dominic, 30 years old, the employee of George Bellamy, had always been a good family friend. Matthew Bellamy admired him from the beginning. Feelings change; some with years, some very suddenly, in moments.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my entry for the July challenge at stellarclouds. Yes, I realise it's August already, but the idea came late; it hit me so hard I had to write it. I'm nervous about it, especially the second part, for which I would like to apologise in advance. Please read the warnings and tags. Enjoy, I kind of like this universe.
> 
> Thank you millionstar for betaing this! :)

I don’t remember our first encounter, but luckily, there are photographs to testify that we were in the same place at the same time. It was uncle Chris and aunt Kelly’s wedding twelve years ago; they only held it after their second child’s, Ava-Jo’s, birth. I didn’t pay much attention to the guests; Alfie (Chris and Kelly’s firstborn) and I were busy running up and down, playing with toys and completely ignoring the loud music and the dancing pairs around us.  
  
In fact, I actually have a very fuzzy memory and I think it was him in it, but I will most probably never find out the truth. It might be just my mind trying to come up with a false memory, so I would feel more connected to him.  
  
Alfie and I decided to play hide and seek and I had to find a good spot where he would not look for me. As soon as I stepped away from Alfie, I couldn’t hear his counting down anymore. I had no sense of time and in the whirl of waltzing pairs it seemed to me that time was rushing much, much faster and, to my biggest embarrassment, Alfie would find me lost in the middle of the ballroom. I successfully dodged laughing guests and hurried waiters, the main door being my desired target.  
  
But before I could push it open, someone had prevented me: a tall figure opened it from the outside, almost knocking me over. “You okay?” he asked and I just nodded as I looked up, but because the Sun was right behind him, I could only make out a dark shape before I ran off. I know it’s silly to believe that it was him, but I like to think that even back then he was the only one among the noisy crowd who at least noticed me.  
  
I look once more at the picture of him and Dad clinking their glasses, marvelling at how young and relaxed they both looked. It was the first time they met, the beginning of a really good business relationship (and later on friendship), despite their age difference. Sometimes their paths wound together, sometimes they would separate, but Dad had always only good words for him, which is a kind of miracle. Yes, among other feelings I have for him, I am also jealous of him for earning my father’s respect.  
  
But this is beside the point. The only feeling he could have for me – in the best case – is indifference.

 

* * * * *

  
  
He was always a shy boy. I remember that when he was just a little kid he used to hide away when I entered their house, peeking out curiously from a corner, thinking I didn’t see him. I went with the game, though I was unable to hide an amused smile. Truth is, my mind would be soon occupied by other thoughts when I was invited into Mr. Bellamy’s office.  
  
There was one time when I arrived earlier than I was supposed to, and was asked to wait in the great hall. The Bellamy residence was enormous and richly decorated, proof of their legendary wealth. Being from a humble family, I must admit I always thought rich kids were arrogant brats – at least the ones in my school were like that. Matthew Bellamy was the exception.  
  
After five minutes of waiting I got up and headed towards what I believed to be the library – I had been shown the house a while ago, but Mr. Bellamy (or George as he’d insisted I call him) usually invited me in his office. To my greatest surprise, little Matthew was there in the library, although he must have been on holiday for it was July already. He was reading out loud, stumbling over difficult words, and didn’t hear me approaching.  
  
“You are not my f-friend. We are mere-merely acq-acquain”  
  
“Acquaintances.”  
  
He glanced up, shocked, then looked back quickly to his book. His face turned red and he mumbled something, but he stopped reading. I thought he was embarrassed to read in front of a stranger, so I sat down beside him and nudged him lightly with my shoulder to encourage him. He flinched and I was suddenly embarrassed myself, but he looked at me questioningly and I nodded. He started reading again and I helped him with some words. Sometimes I had the impression that he knew perfectly well how to pronounce those words, but he just didn’t dare to say them out loud.  
  
Suddenly, George burst into the library and greeted me with his characteristically loud voice: “Dominic, you’re here!”  
  
I noticed Matthew slumping his shoulders and he didn’t even look up when I patted his shoulder and told him how good he was. While climbing the stairs, I told George too about Matthew’s good reading skills, but he just waved me off, telling me how Matthew was bad at Maths and was still too shy and wimpy. He proceeded to tell me the other faults of his eight-year-old son and, to be honest, I didn’t hear most of them and the ones I heard sounded false to my ears. Why would George despise his only child so much was beyond me and especially why he told me all this puzzled me infinitely. Back then I was just his employee, not a close friend. What was the point of exposing his son’s faults publicly?  
  
Chris told me later that George’s wife died while giving birth to Matthew and maybe he couldn’t love his son because he took away the love of his life. Of course, this could have been a viable explanation, but I also thought that maybe George wanted Matthew to be like him: strong, determined, pushy, cold-hearted and proud. George Bellamy towered over his son, stealing away sunshine and leaving his son in the shadows. No wonder the little boy grew apart from him, avoiding his father as much as he could. With Mr. Bellamy’s hotel chain expanding faster every year, the task became ever easier.

 

* * * * *

  
  
I rarely saw him. Dad employed him despite his doubts only because Chris recommended him. I mean, Dominic was barely eighteen-nineteen when he was hired as kitchen help and was promoted to chef a year later. He was incredibly talented and people started coming to Dad’s hotel especially because of the restaurant. Then three years later he appeared on the cover of _Good Food_.  
  
I still have that issue. I re-read the interview countless times during the years, sliding my fingers reverently on the glossy cover. Don’t get me wrong, my feelings back when I was ten were nothing like they are now. I felt some kind of fascination for him; the confidence he walked with, the way he charmed everyone and made people respect him, the bright smiles he offered convinced me that he felt right in his skin and managed to conquer the world. I wanted to be like him.  
  
Earlier, I talked about feeling jealous. In fact, that was just one type of jealousy I experienced in regards to him. The second type occurred when I was thirteen and Chris invited me to spend the summer with his big family in Devon. That was the best summer I’d ever had; I don’t think I’d ever felt so happy and free like then.  
  
One morning Chris told us he and Kelly had to go to London later for a charity event held at one of Dad’s hotels. I thought they would drive there, but instead a gorgeous red car appeared on the driveway in the afternoon. Alfie and I spent many hours at the seaside, so by the time we came home they were ready to go. We watched them from a window as Chris and Kelly, elegantly dressed, went to the car while we danced, knowing that they would return late and we could stay up after midnight.  
  
When we looked back at the car, Dominic was smiling behind his dark sunglasses and waved at us. It was then that I noticed a pretty woman in the passenger’s seat and my blood went cold. I was watching after the car intently; Alfie had to tug at my shirt to get my attention. I feigned an ecstatic smile as he dragged me to the kitchen to raid it of chocolate and crackers.  
  
I stuffed myself with unhealthy, sugary stuff while thinking about the woman. She had long, red hair and wore a dark blue dress, but I couldn’t make out her features from our spot. I would have bet all my money that she was some kind of model or actress with long legs and a nice bosom like the women in Alfie’s naughty magazines. The truth is that when thinking of him, I somehow always “forgot” that he could have a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend, for that matter. This might have come from the article in that magazine. There was a tiny fragment on his personal life:  
  
 _“When I asked if he had a significant other in his life, chef Dominic Howard blushed slightly and giggled as if I had just said the most improbable thing in the world. ‘I know it’s a cliché, but I am married to my work. The restaurant is going really well and I work over twelve hours, almost every day. By the time I get home, I just want to crawl in my bed and sleep. I have little free time and I use it to do things I enjoy, like riding my motorcycle or playing my drums. I don’t think I would be a good boyfriend right now; I am focusing solely on my career.”_  
  
Strange, but that one paragraph had been a lifelong guarantee for me that he would be free. I didn’t exactly want him as _mine_ , because that was impossible, but the thought that he was nobody’s would have been enough. Above all, I wanted him to be happy. Of course, it did not cross my mind that happiness might have come for him in the form of a beautiful woman.

 

* * * * *

  
  
I was very nervous to tell George about my intention of resigning. I hoped that he would understand even as a forty-something that now that I had the resources to fulfill my dream, it was time to go. I wanted to do a tour in the best kitchens of Europe and learn from the best chefs. Most people who heard about my plan thought I was crazy giving up my excellent job at the hotel, saying I was already a great chef, what more did I want to. I knew the flaws and holes in my culinary knowledge – there was always room for improvement.  
  
I entered sheepishly that big house where I hadn’t been for many years. I usually met up with the boss either at the hotel or Chris’ place. I heard a piano playing and I remembered that Matthew took it up when he was ten and was a real prodigy child. He even participated in international contests and had some good results. I was glad that he found a passion and I hoped that his father started seeing his values. He should have been proud of Mathew.  
  
George received me in the living room where the piano was too. Matthew stopped playing, looking surprised when he saw me. George hugged me friendly, while Matthew shook my hand. He wanted to leave the room and let us talk, but his father and I too told him he should stay and play more. I smiled when Matthew stumbled slightly over his own legs – his limbs had grown unexpectedly and he was still getting used to them. Moreover, he looked so scrawny that I was convinced that if he’d go outside in strong wind, he’d be taken up and blown away.  
  
To my greatest relief, George took the news calmly. I saw in his dark blue eyes that he was disappointed, but he understood. I noticed that when I announced the news Matthew faltered in his playing. For a moment, I wondered if he cared and I came to the conclusion that he was such a sweet child, unlike most of his generation, that he probably did feel bad for me leaving, even though we barely knew each other.  
  
I declined George’s invitation to dinner and he embraced me again as goodbye, holding me tightly. Matthew was there too and I smiled when he came forward driven by an impulse and hugged me. I could sense that he hadn’t really had the opportunity to hug people – it was a bit awkward, but all the more sweeter. I patted his back and wished him good luck and told him to be good. He nodded obediently, his longish hair hiding his face, but I noticed him smiling (ah, the long hair, the first sign of teenage rebellion!).  There was no shred of doubt in me that he would become a brilliant young man.

 

* * * * *

  
  
He said he would go on a tour in Europe’s best kitchens for a year. Well, it was true, but then a friend invited him to China and he spent more than a year in Asia. I’d hear from Chris or Dad news about him sometimes: Dominic learned from the best French confectioner, he travelled around the Greek islands for the most delicious recipes, Dominic learned the art of sushi, he moved to India for a month and so on. He was living his dream and I was happy for him, but I just wanted him home to see his face.  
  
Don’t think that I spent all my time thinking about him. No, that was not the case. I was busy with school; however, sometimes I’d slip in a reverie and hear his laugh and feel a terrible pain in my chest, as if someone had ripped out a part of it.  
  
It was before Christmas, around the 22nd December, by the time I got home from an international piano contest in Vienna. I carried my luggage upstairs tiredly, extremely grateful that I wouldn’t have to get up early in the winter holiday. Panting from the exertion, I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes. I don’t know why, I just felt so drained from the trip. The door of Dad’s office opened and I startled, not knowing that he was at home.  
  
“Hello, Matthew! Was your flight delayed?”  
  
“Hi, Dad. Yes, by almost two hours. There was a blizzard.”  
  
Dad nodded understandingly. “Shame, you missed Dominic. He came home and visited us. He wanted to wait for you, but couldn’t stay.”  
  
Good thing that Dad was busy tying his tie as I’m sure that I pulled a conspicuous face. It took a lot of control not to scream in frustration. So I just said: “Blimey, I’m sorry to hear that; would have loved to hear about his travels.”  
  
I hung my head low and started for my room, but Dad had just remembered something: “Oh, yes, he also brought some presents. I told him to leave yours in your room. Don’t forget to thank him next time you see him!”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
The thought that Dominic had been in my room made my stomach clench with panic, but excitement as well. I rushed in to check if he could see anything inappropriate. I remembered that magazine I had with him on the cover, but it was safely tucked away. I looked around as if it was the first time I’d ever been in my room. Everything was neat, so I calmed down a little. My eyes fell on the things on my desk.  
  
I walked there hesitantly, but inside I was boiling with curiosity. To my greatest delight, Dominic got me lots of interesting sweets. I didn’t even know half of them, but I was already drooling. There was also a nice little box covered in a silky red fabric with a note on top of it. It said:  
  
 _“These are[Baoding balls](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Baoding_balls) from China. They are supposed to increase your hand’s dexterity, so I thought they would be useful for your piano playing._  
  
 _Keep up the great work!_  
  
 _D.”_  
  
I opened the box and there were two green balls; one of them had a red Sun, the other a white Moon on it. I took one in my hand and was surprised by its heaviness. If I shook them, they made a metallic chime. They were really interesting and I played with them all afternoon, smiling whenever I remembered that Dominic had gifted them to me.  
  
What I didn’t know was that I would have to wait another six months till I could thank him for his gift, because he intended to travel to the States after the holidays.

 

* * * * *

  
  
I was never a family type of guy with a settled life in a neat white house, a loving wife and cute children. For me, home represented the places where I felt good. It turned out that I had many homes in the world, on all the three continents that I managed to visit in the last three years. I felt bursting with so many experiences and my skin still tingled with the excitement of adventure.  
  
However, it would be a lie if I said that I was not glad to go home in the UK. I stayed a few days in London, mostly just being lazy and trying to get accustomed to the different rhythm of life. Then Chris called me to join him in a mini-holiday and I thought it would be great to spend some days in good company. He told me that he rented a small house in a nice, picturesque village and that his oldest son and Mr. Bellamy and his son too would join us. An only-boys weekend filled with fishing and other outdoor activities sounded fantastic.  
  
I rented a car and drove to the village Chris had told me about. I learned from the villagers, though, that the vacation house was farther away. It turned out that it was basically in the middle of nowhere. All right, it was in the middle of a forest and – as I later learned – not far away from a lake, but for a city guy like me, this was very remote from any civilization. I expected a small cabin, but it was actually quite a big, one-storied house.  
  
However, the front door was locked and I only noticed it then that there was no other car there. I was pretty sure that Chris told me he’d be here in the morning and it was one o’clock already. Maybe they had to go into the village for something. I locked the car and thought I’d check the back door, hoping to find it open. No need to say that I was surprised to find two deckchairs behind the house, one of them occupied by a seemingly sleeping person with a book lying open beside them on the ground. Who was this mysterious stranger?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the second part, I really hope it won't disappoint! (read: I suck at smut) Please, read the warnings.

You know how it feels when you _know_ that you are going to meet someone you haven’t seen for a long time, yet you are incredibly shocked when they are actually standing in front of you? When Chris invited us to join him the next weekend, I was reluctant to accept, but Dad kind of forced me into it, saying it would be fun and I could read and listen to music there as well, but at least I wouldn’t stay holed up in my room all day. Two days later, when Alfie told me that Chris had invited Dominic and that he’d accepted, I could barely stop smiling. The initial excitement turned into a strange tenseness and nervousness a day before we left, these feelings hovering above me menacingly like birds of prey, preventing me from sleeping.

 

That is why I dozed off when I lay down on one of the deckchairs. At first, when I opened my eyes, I thought it was a part of my dream as he leaned over me, grinning. Good thing I didn’t mumble something like “Hello, love.” or it would have turned into impossibly awkward. I scrambled to make myself look presentable and told him the others went to buy stuff for the barbeque. He looked as handsome as ever, his skin a tad darker than I remembered. The next thing was to thank him for the gift and he looked genuinely surprised that I cared to do that, stroking my hair for it. Oh God, the feelings! I wonder how I could remain coherent after that! I don’t even remember what we talked about after that, but the others arrived then, so it didn’t matter.

 

Of course, the guys jumped on Dominic and I watched longingly as he hugged everyone and offered each of them a kind smile. I helped to unload the car, promising myself to stay away from him as much as I could. Knowing that I was unable to hide my feelings completely, a single look could give me away. At this point it would have been the lesser damage if it was _he_ who discovered it, but it would be bad enough. No risks, Matthew. _It is not worth throwing away everything just so you could admire his soft hair or plump lips._

 

Preparing the lunch and the meal itself too was fun. Everyone contributed to it and that was why we ate with such gusto. Finally, _finally_ , Dominic told us about his experiences. I tried to keep my eyes glued to my plate, but some parts were so interesting and the others were gaping and staring at him too, so I could do the same openly, without drawing their attention. He looked at everyone while talking, two pretty red spots appearing on his cheeks, but when he looked at me I had this feeling that his look lingered for a little bit more. I reasoned that when he stared into my soul with those greyish eyes of his, time expanded, the air and people around us stilled for the fraction of a second and then everything went back to normal.

 

Pure illusion.

 

After such a copious lunch, everyone retreated to take a bit of rest. Alfie and I chose the deckchairs, Dominic the hammock and the “old men” went inside. The games on my phone distracted me from looking over at the hammock every two minutes, but I must say Alfie did a great job too: when one spends their time with him, Alfie expects them to devote their whole attention to him. An hour later, he suggested we play badminton and I accepted, the uncharacteristic impulse to do something after a good meal taking me over. I felt rusty in the first ten minutes, but we got used to each other’s rhythm and the game was going smoothly, the shuttlecock flying between us many times (we didn’t have a net, we kept it simple).

 

Of course, we weren’t silent. As soon as one of us failed to hit the shuttlecock, the other would yell “Loser!” or similar names, taunting gently like mates do. Our gleeful shouts woke the “old men” and they joined in commenting the game. I noticed even Dominic getting up from his hammock and sitting down on the log where Chris and Dad sat. How lucky that Alfie didn’t like being watched either, so he stopped and told us he’d like to show us the lake. I wiped my forehead with relief and emptied a bottle of water before setting out on the walk.

 

It was close to the house, approximately ten minutes away. On beautiful days, like that day, the lake reflected the calm blue of the sky and charmed the viewer, especially now, when it appeared through branches like a hidden treasure. We sat down and chatted about all kinds of things. Chris said he’d go fishing the next day and those who wanted to join him should wake up at four. I knew Dad would be in, he always said that he used to fish a lot as a boy. Alfie declared he wanted to sleep in and Dominic hadn’t made up his mind yet, but he promised that if there was any catch, he’d prepare the best fish we’d ever had. When asked, I shrugged, saying it depended if I could fall asleep early.

 

The rest of the evening passed nicely; Chris and Dad played badminton while we commented on their game. When the Sun went down we entered the house and watched some news on the telly, eating ice creams and a bowl of cherries Dominic brought us. Chris and Dad agreed to meet at the lake at half past four and invited us again to join them if we felt inclined. It was barely ten when everyone retreated into their room (surprisingly, the house had exactly five bedrooms and a living room); Dad and Chris on the ground floor and the rest upstairs. Alfie came into my room, said we should watch a film together, but he almost fell asleep after half an hour, so I sent him to bed. I watched a few episodes of The Big Bang Theory, but I was still not sleepy and there was nothing interesting on the internet either. Unable to bear sitting in my room any more, I crept downstairs to have a glass of milk.

 

 

* * * * *

 

 

He was wearing sunglasses and was listening to music on his headphones, but even if he could have seen me, I wouldn’t have been able to stop staring – I even took off my sunglasses. My eyes were just drawn to the pale skin that wasn’t covered by his navy Bermuda shorts. Then my look travelled to the other patch of pearly skin where his white shirt rode up. For a moment I thought Chris invited someone else until the guy turned his head towards me. My eyes almost popped out when I realized it was Matthew and after a few moments of panic when I tried to make my blush go away, I decided to let him know that I was there and not stare like a creeper. I put my sunglasses back on (they always give me a sense of concealment) and tapped his shoulder lightly.

 

Through the smoky lens I saw his eyes open lazily and then I smiled as he hastily stood up, took off the headphones and his sunglasses. He mumbled an apology about not hearing me and I smiled to let him know that everything was fine. We shook hands and he told me that the others, just like I suspected, went into the village for supplies. I was taken aback when Matthew thanked me for the gifts I brought from Asia (he remembered after so many months!) and I swear to God that I tried to keep my hands to myself, but I reached out and ruffled his hair. The softness surprised me; my emotions intensifying after he turned his head and the corners of his mouth twitched slightly.

 

I didn’t realize at the time that I was falling into a dangerous hole from which there was no coming back. The others arrived soon and the vivid conversation didn’t let my mind to wander back to certain things. We made a barbeque and it was good to just sit and enjoy simple, familiar tastes. I told a few stories from my trips, the most interesting ones, chuckling at their surprised faces. Truth is, I was telling them for one person, but I didn’t dare to look at him. All right, I did look at him, but not more than what would be considered normal. It was hard, especially when his blue eyes widened or when he smiled at my silly stories. _Maybe we will be alone at some point and we can talk. I want to hear his stories._

 

When Matthew wasn’t attentive, I asked George about his son’s piano playing and just as I thought, he was winning competition after competition. He had also received an acceptance letter from a prestigious university. Things were going good for him. More importantly, it seemed that his father was proud of him and I hoped that he didn’t hesitate to show those feelings in front of his son. Chris started telling some stories from his army days and I watched, transfixed, as Matthew tapped his fingers on the table, clearly unaware that he was doing it. I hadn’t noticed before how long his fingers were, how thin and elegant, always in search of surfaces which could produce sounds. His fingers were perfect for playing the piano.

 

After washing the dishes, I occupied the hammock and put on my sunglasses, trying to block out the world and maybe nap a little. I felt like floating, the breeze swinging my “bed” lightly. I did sleep for a while, but then I woke up to voices. Alfie and Matthew were playing badminton. I remained in the same position, pretending to be asleep, but in fact paving that certain road with good intentions (if only they had stayed as intentions!). But my eyes watched as he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and how he leaned forward, pushing back his little bum and I swear, I reminded myself every minute that he was seventeen, _seventeen_ , for God’s sake, but my brain was in a sweet, holiday-induced haze and did not comprehend it. Or, it refused to comprehend it.

 

His neck was glistening with sweat and he pushed his hair back, the rebellious locks bouncing back instantly. _He’s seventeen_. Matthew’s eyes, though, I cannot even describe them. From up-close they are the brightest blue, but now they were piercing, almost black, as they were eagerly following the game. _He’s seventeen._ I was feeling hot, but I lay stock still, never taking my eyes off of him, sweat rolling down on the side of my face. _He’s seventeen_. I told my brain to shut the hell up, because Matthew was not that little boy anymore who spent his summer holiday perfecting his reading skills – he was a charming young man who had no idea how seductive he was.

 

_He’s still seventeen, though._

 

It was easier to think when the others were around and I was glad for the walk to the lake. I sat the farthest away from him and breathed in deeply, cleaning my mind of improper thoughts. Chris and George were determined to go fishing very early the next morning; they invited me as well, but I was indecisive. The evening passed quickly and I was relieved to go up in my room and lay down on my bed. I don’t remember how, but I woke with a start around an hour later, my eyes opening unexpectedly. I was convinced that it was morning for I felt awake. No such luck.

 

I thought about how stupid I’d acted that day. I remembered the secret part of my travels; the soft skins under my greedy palm and the dark mouths covering mine with a taste of sin, but this was the lowest level I’d ever reached - feeling attracted to a seventeen-year-old. It was my fault; whenever he crossed my mind, I saw him as the shy little boy reading alone in the library. That is why I lost my mind when I found a completely changed person on the deckchair, an incredibly humble person who could make me lose my mind with a single look.

 

I swear, I was determined. I told myself that I would only have to be there for another day and it would pass quickly. I would stick to Chris’ side and forget Matthew was even there. I would not even look at him. Putting on my pyjamas seemed such a straining task and I wasn’t that sleepy either. I thought about going downstairs and maybe baking something for the guys. I like baking at night, it is soothing; what is more, even cathartic.

 

Opening the pantry, however, I realized there was no flour. Of course, why would there be? Luckily, I found a pack of gingerbread and decided to have some with milk. I was sitting at the table, munching on my second piece, just staring out the window absentmindedly when I heard some footsteps coming down on the stairs. They stopped abruptly.

 

“Oh. It seems I’m not the only one who can’t sleep.”

 

No, you were not, dear Matthew, but I wish you were.

 

 

* * * * *

 

 

Imagine this: there is this person who you’ve been idolizing for many years and would give everything to spend some time with. Add an irresistible attraction, a good dash of awkwardness and embarrassment from your part and you will understand how I felt when I saw Dominic sitting alone at the kitchen table. He was fully-dressed and I was just in my lousy pyjamas. I expressed my surprise to find him there, but he just shrugged and smiled, inviting me to share the gingerbread and milk. I gladly accepted.

 

I don’t know what got into me, but I sat down beside him, very close to him. I felt him tense for a moment, as if fighting something, but I persisted with the touch of our shoulders and thighs and he gave up. We sat like that, eating gingerbread and drinking milk for a long time, both of us unable to voice that tingling that ran through our skin. _What are you doing, Matthew James Bellamy?_ I asked myself and the answer was in the goose bumps that formed on my forearms.

 

“Are you cold?” he asked and caressed my back in an attempt to warm it.

 

“No, it’s just…”

 

I looked up at him and he turned his eyes from my back to my face, his hand slowing down at the middle of my back. It then travelled up, inch by inch, to the back of my neck and I swallowed, his eyes never leaving mine. I don’t know who leaned in first; maybe we did it at the same time. When his lips touched mine, I thought I’d start screaming, so I turned the gentle kiss into a passionate one, Dominic moaning in surprise. His hand messaged my neck, then he pulled the hair at the back of my head. We stopped for a bit, but he only backed away for a breath to whisper:

 

“Matthew, we shouldn’t…this is wrong.”

 

“Would it feel this good if it’s wrong?”

 

He chuckled and nuzzled me with his nose, his mouth leaving small kisses until it reached my neck. The first bite made me clutch for his t-shirt and I moaned rather loudly. We both flinched and looked in the direction of Chris’ and Dad’s rooms, expecting them to step out and catch us red-handed. I motioned with my head to the door. Dominic massaged his forehead with closed eyes and I knew what kind of thoughts whirled in his head. My age, the law, the immorality, the sin, but I wanted him to forget about them. You must think that I didn’t care, because he was the one who would be punished if caught, but he meant too much for me to let something bad happen to him.

 

I kissed him delicately and whispered “It’s all right”, taking his hand and leading him outside, also getting my coat from the hall. It was summer, but the air was slightly cold during the night. We arrived at the lake and I saw that Dominic wanted to say something, a last protest probably, but I pushed him against a tree and attacked his mouth to prove that I really wanted this. He growled and reversed our positions, taking my wrists and pinning them to the trunk. His left thigh sneaked between mine and held me captive. When our kiss broke I leaned against the tree and panted:

 

“I’ve been dreaming about this, but this is so much better.”

 

He looked surprised and playfully bit at the base of my neck, mumbling: “You planned this, didn’t you, you little devil?”

 

My cock twitched and my mind was blank for a second, Dominic’s mouth kissing and licking my neck. I cupped his face, looked him deeply in the eyes and replied:

 

“No. I just hoped.”

 

We kissed again, tongues battling for dominance, and I blushed as I knew that my pyjama bottoms didn’t hide anything. As if to reassure me, Dominic pressed his body closer and I could feel his bulge pressing against mine. That was one of the best sensations I had ever experienced; I was already seeing stars from the hypnotic pleasure. We moved to the ground, Dominic on top of me and we bucked against each other while kissing.

 

His warm hands felt wonderful as they travelled up on my chest and teased my nipples. Dominic was in a better position since my pyjamas were so thin, but I sneaked my hands under his t-shirt, mapping his perfect back. He bucked more powerfully against me and I scratched his back in response. His low groan proved that he liked it a lot. The pace quickened and I felt my release close, but he suddenly stopped and instead put his hand on my left thigh, fondling it and slowly approaching my cock.

 

He pressed his palm against it and I whimpered helplessly, the sounds we made blending with the darkness of the night. He was looking at my face while he traced my cock’s shape carefully, watching for reactions and smiling when I bit my lips at the most pleasurable spots. His right hand curled around my balls and I bit his shoulder in surprise, his satisfied chuckle music to my ears. His hand returned to my cock and he wanked me to completion, kissing me hungrily when I came.

 

I held to Dominic tightly, looking at him for a moment before placing my head on his shoulder. There was a silver chain on his neck and I fiddled with it, my index finger tracing the small chain links. He sat up with me in his lap, leaning against the tree, kissed my right cheek and cradled me, rocking both of us in a tender rhythm that reminded me of sea waves. It was so pleasant that I could feel my eyes becoming heavier, my fingers sliding off from his neck. The realization hit me suddenly: I didn’t…he hadn’t…I mean…I had been selfish.

 

My hand slid off even lower, to his belt buckle, and he turned his head towards me, surprised. I stopped, unsure what to do next, and looked at him expectantly, swallowing my timidity and waiting for an answer. He tilted his head and smiled kindly, caressing my cheek. Everything was so tranquil, even his voice when he said: “Don’t worry about it.”

 

I don’t even remember how, but I ended up with my head in his lap, watching the stars as Dominic ran his fingers through my hair. The feeling was so sweet, bubbles of happiness bursting in my chest. It seemed that he was enjoying it as well, at least his sigh sounded content as if he wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else doing anything else. My eyes felt so heavy, it was becoming increasingly harder to keep them open and then I heard it. As my eyes unfocused on the beautiful night sky, Dominic’s gentle strokes lulling me to sleep, I heard music coming from nowhere, louder, then softer, almost like a whisper, then loud again.

 

I smiled as I realized what it was, what it would become: the sound of inspiration, my first piece of music that would have to be written down the next day.

 

 

* * * * *

 

 

Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if we hadn’t met in the kitchen. Would either of us have had the courage later to approach the other? What if I would have managed to sleep? Or what if one of us would have been too lazy to go downstairs? I honestly didn’t expect Matthew to appear in thin pyjamas at midnight, raking his fingers through his slightly dishevelled hair. His grin should have been suspicious, but I thought he was just amused by my late night snack, so I invited him to share it with me. However, my resolution to stay away from him dissolved when he sat down beside me.

 

Now, I don’t consider myself particularly perceptive, but his closeness was an invitation. I wasn’t sure what kind it was and for a moment I considered my possibilities, but in the end I gave up and remained there, chewing gingerbread in silence, as I felt his bony shoulder touch mine and his thigh press close to mine. For a long time neither of us spoke a word. I wanted to say something, but every thought that I had sounded ridiculous. Then I looked at his right arm and noticed the goose bumps, instinctively starting to rub his back to warm him up.

 

I asked him if he was cold and when he looked at me I knew he was struggling with words just as I was; the words that I had been searching for as well. Even though the lights were dim in the kitchen, I saw hope and determination in his eyes, so I leaned in. I think it was I who initiated it, but Matthew caught on too, so we met midway. Shy Matthew surprised me with his eagerness and passion, the touch of his lips erasing any kind of protest that my mind could have formed. Don’t think that I haven’t told him that we weren’t supposed to do this, but his only argument proved convincing enough: _“Would it feel this good if it’s wrong?”_ Truth is, his words remained in my memory for a long time.

 

Who would have been able to stop there? When it comes to Matthew, I certainly cannot resist him. I think it was when I bit his neck that he moaned rather loudly. Beside the initial fear that we woke somebody up, I also noted how sensitive he was there. He was the one who suggested going outside and I wanted to go, of course that I wanted to continue, but for the first time since we started making out I realised just how brash we acted. The scare was as if someone had woken me up by throwing a bucket of ice cold water on me. If someone discovered us…

 

Matthew, as if he could read my thoughts, tried to reassure me and took me outside. Wanting to be far from the house, but not too far, we walked to the lake, the place just as magical or even more so in the soft moonlight. Again, I wanted to warn him, but he convinced me that he wanted this by pinning me against a tree; I saw on his face that he really meant it. Looking back at it, I should have probably tried to persuade him to stop, but as I said, I don’t own such a strong willpower.

 

I did enjoy him taking over control, but I wanted to make him feel amazing, so I pushed him against the tree. At first I thought I was too rough; however, the pleased sounds coming from his little mouth spurred me to continue. My head was filled only by the wonder that was about to happen when my lovely kissing partner leaned against the tree with closed eyes and stated that this was better than how he’d imagined it (he looked absolutely stunning, by the way!).

 

Only then did it occur to me that this whole thing might not have been as spontaneous for him as it was for me, leaving me wondering if he had planned this. From his answer that “he just hoped” I deduced that my first feeling, that he probably liked me for a longer time, must have been correct. I was really curious how long exactly, but by that time lust demanded its price, and instead of asking him, I pressed closer, moaning as I felt his hard cock.

 

We lay on the ground for more comfort and our kisses became more rushed and frantic as we sought friction. His skin was so soft (my mind commenting: _“Of course, he’s seventeen!”_ ) and sensitive. What I liked the most about Matthew was that he rewarded me for every touch either with hot sounds or passionate kisses. Before we could come from our dry humping, I slowed down and decided to put away my own need for pleasure in order to accord my full attention to Matthew. He looked so surprised when I touched his thigh, not quite believing what was happening.

 

I could have taken down his pyjama bottoms, but this way a sense of mystery was preserved for Matthew and me as well. I couldn’t take my eyes off his face, I didn’t want to miss any of his blissful expressions. He felt so hot and hard under my hand; I quickened the pace and Matthew reached his peak with a delightful scream of my name, his eyes widening and reflecting the stars above. I leaned in and kissed him, swallowing his sounds greedily.

 

With his cheeks hot with the afterglow of pleasure pressed against my skin, I hugged him close to myself and leaned against the tree, trying to convince myself that it really happened. The way Matthew’s long eyelashes fluttered and his little mouthopened in the moment of release had to be forever memorized in my mind. His hot breath tickled my neck as he tried to come back from that magical place. I felt his fingers trembling on my neck and gripping my silver chain, as if it was an anchor that helped him not to drift away from reality.

 

I was lost in my thoughts until I felt tentative touches around the hem of my shirt. When I looked at Matthew he seemed nervous and I understood that he wanted to return the favour. His gesture touched me so much, but I knew it wouldn’t be right, not yet, at least. He wasn’t completely comfortable and I didn’t want him to feel obliged to me in any way. I think he felt relieved and he finally ended up in my lap, smiling softly as I massaged his scalp. I definitely have something for his hair, touching its softness became my new addiction.

 

I sat there for a while, without any thoughts disturbing my heavenly contentment, just enjoying the warm weight of Matthew’s head in my lap. After a while I realized that his breathing slowed down. I checked my watch; it was almost two o’clock, of course he was tired. As I caressed his cheek with my thumb, I pondered my options of how could I get him back to his room. I definitely didn’t want to wake him up, so I got up gently and put him over my left shoulder. He made a soft sound, but luckily didn’t wake up.

 

I hummed to myself as I walked to the house, reliving the kisses in my mind, the sweet press of Matthew’s lips that tasted of gingerbread. Then suddenly I remembered what he’d said, that he had been dreaming about this and the question of how long returned again. If it wasn’t a sudden attraction, then the last time we had met was…three years ago. I had to stop for a moment to catch my breath and readjust Matthew’s lithe body on my shoulder. He had liked me for three years? Was this even possible? I felt dizzy with the overwhelming realization. Was this the reason why he hugged me so tight when I went to say goodbye all those years ago?

 

When I got to the house, I stopped again to rest a little. Matthew woke up, so I thought this was the perfect opportunity to climb the stairs – me carrying him would have taken longer and I most probably would have made some noise. I don’t think Matthew was conscious; he just walked automatically, heavily leaning against me. As soon as we entered his room, I guided him to the bed and gently laid him on it. He was asleep again in no time.

 

I took off his jacket and put it on a chair, then removed his shoes as well. Matthew turned on his right side and I put a blanket over him, kissing the top of his head as I leaned in. I sat down on the bed for a bit, questions like what would happen the next day troubling me. I realized that we barely knew each other (despite knowing each other for twelve years), yet this whole thing came so suddenly and hit me so hard that I couldn’t just let go of Matthew. Not even the age difference or the fact that he was only seventeen could stop me from hoping.

 

I didn’t care if I had to wait. After all, if my suspicions were right, Matthew had waited too. I would wait for him – if he wanted to give us a chance, of course. Judging by his passion just a couple of hours ago, he wouldn’t say no. I watched him sleeping and I understood that we couldn’t communicate much the next day – not as freely as we wanted to anyway – so I had to let him know somehow (preferably in a subtle way) that this wasn’t just a fling. I scratched my neck and the idea suddenly dawned on me. This would be perfect.

 

It was past three in the morning and since I couldn’t sleep, I decided to go back to the lake and wait for Chris and George and catch some fish.

 

 

* * * * *

 

 

However weird this might sound, but I was beyond shocked when I woke up in my bed. To be honest, I expected to wake up to Dad screaming or something equally terrible. I wasn’t alone and freezing on the lakeshore either, so the only explication was that I fell asleep in Dominic’s lap and he carried me back home. I didn’t know if I should die of embarrassment or be grateful to him. Probably both. He was a real gentleman, he didn’t abandon me there.

 

I went to the bathroom and my mind whispered to me that maybe the whole thing was a dream. This possibility scared me even more than Dad finding me sprawled on the lakeside, because that would have meant that Dominic had never kissed me…but then I saw the spots on my pyjama bottoms and I was torn between two feelings again: embarrassment and victory. Hot images flashed in my mind too. It _did_ happen then! It was not a (wet) dream.

 

_You were just a one-time thing for him_. I hated how my mind was so active this morning and brought up the most depressing possibilities. I washed my hands and splashed cold water on my face, reaching behind to wash my nape as well. That was when I felt something strange on my neck. I opened my eyes and looked in the mirror with bafflement, droplets running down on my face. From under the neckline of my pyjama top I took out a silver chain. Dominic’s _silver chain._ I opened my mouth in shock, then smiled at my reflection.

 

I had to keep it in my hand to make sure that it was real even when I walked back to my room. I wanted to jump and scream, but I knew I had to control myself. The secret was burning from inside, but I didn’t mind it in the least: it made me feel powerful. I stepped to the window and opened it wide to feel the fresh air. My eyes immediately fell on Dominic who was coming from the forest, holding two fish in his net. He was wearing the same clothes as last night, but had his sunglasses on.

 

As if he could feel my presence, Dominic looked up to my window. We just stared at each other intensively for a few moments until I took out the silver chain from under my pyjama top and held it tightly to show how much it meant to me. His mouth opened slightly, then spread in the most beautiful smile I had ever seen. The music from last night started playing again in my head, so I smiled back and waved, quickly sitting at my desk and putting it down, lest I should forget it.

 

With my heart full of love, joy, images of Dominic and stars, I started writing my first song and decided to call it _Bliss_ : somehow I knew that this wonderful feeling would follow me as long as he was beside me.


End file.
